


No Promises Among Thieves

by savanting



Category: Descendants (Disney Movies)
Genre: Crushes, Dual POV, Friends to Lovers, Longing, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pre-Canon, Pre-Descendants (2015), Series of One Shots, jaylos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-22
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26053195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savanting/pseuds/savanting
Summary: Jay and Carlos may have knownofeach other on the Isle of the Lost, but becoming friends wasn’t as easy as being bad...(Set to be a series of one-shots following Jay and Carlos, their friendship, and something more between them. A prequel of sorts to the first movie.)
Relationships: Jay & Carlos De Vil, Jay/Carlos de Vil
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	1. Boys Will Be Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any Disney properties. I am all for cute friendships becoming entanglements (of a kind), so this is my way of exploring that for Jay and Carlos (whose fascinations with Lonnie and Jane respectively never rung to me as completely on-point). You can think it’s a bromance, you can think it’s an unrequited crush on one of the boys’ parts, or you can just read along and wonder, “What if...?” like me.

There were better ways to die than by getting strangled by your own father — or, at least, that’s how Jay viewed it. Jafar was certainly very, er, _old school_ when it came to how he punished his only son. It was a good thing Jay had made it a point from a young age to crash at any and all fellow gang members’ hovels when he could — well, before stealing from them had made him enemy number one when it came to peace talks and truces among the gangs that ruled the Isle of the Lost. But that was less pressing than the matter at hand: he had to find a place to hunker down for a while, and _fast_.

Why, you ask, was the thieving son of the once-vizier hiding from his old man? Well, that was a long story, but here’s the thick of it, dear reader: Jay had stolen — er, perhaps _borrowed_ was the better word — his father’s prized possession, the only thing the man had not sold or bartered away since his exile, and what had Jay done? He had lost it in a gamble against the seafarer gang down by the wharf.

The prized possession, the serpent staff Jafar had once used to bespell his enemies, might not have mattered as much — Jay _could_ and _would_ win it back — but what would anger his father most was the matter that Jay had lost in the first place. His father had always told him a gamble was always easiest, even if you had to cheat to make sure you won. (Sure, that hadn’t worked out against Aladdin — Jafar betting on his control over the lamp never being usurped — but his father wasn’t one for those details in his older age.)

The problem now, of course, was that Jay couldn’t go home until his father’s anger cooled. Magic may have been dead on the Isle of the Lost, but physical ramifications were still very much a possibility. Jay didn’t want to lose fingers or an ear over a gamble gone wrong. And he would make it up to his father, even if that meant more runs with the smugglers who did secret deals with Auradon on the mainland. Even though he liked working solo, there were times when he could partner up to get a heftier payout.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

Jay whirled on his heel in the alleyway and flicked out his pocket knife — only to find the other end of the blade aimed between the eyes of one Carlos De Vil, a scrawny kid with a shock of white hair growing from black roots. Carlos’s eyes widened upon seeing the knife, and he held up his hands in quick and obvious surrender. The kid wasn’t known for being a fighter. “I’m unarmed, I’m unarmed!”

Lowering the knife, Jay hissed between his clenched teeth. “You’re lucky you caught me on a slow day. I might have gutted out your brains otherwise.”

Carlos’s eyes hadn’t left the knife that was still open in Jay’s hand. “Uh, yeah, I think I got that memo,” he said. “Why so on edge? You’re swift enough to avoid a fight, I thought.”

 _What do you know about me, kid?_ But that might have been too rash, even for Jay. Sure, he and Carlos didn’t run in the same circles — Jay didn’t even think the kid was joined up in one of the main gangs like most of the Isle kids were — but Jay might have stolen something from him back in the day. His thieving exploits all melded together after a while. Besides, Jay didn’t have friends, just business partners.

But now that he was looking at the kid, who was still waiting for an answer, Jay wondered…

“You know, I think it’s time we become best buds,” Jay said, slinging his knife in his pocket and swinging an arm over Carlos’s shoulder. The kid looked at him like he was afraid Jay might bite him.

“Since when?” Carlos asked, voice suspicious. Jay couldn’t blame him. Just because Carlos wasn’t in the regular scene of the Isle didn’t mean he wasn’t aware that Jay was more likely to stab someone in the back than uphold a promise. And friends? Yeah, right.

“Since _now_ , kid,” Jay said as he jostled Carlos’s shoulder, causing the younger boy to look even more spooked. “I think you need a mentor, someone to help you in the ways of a villain.”

“Uh, yeah, no thanks,” Carlos said, shrugging off Jay’s arm and backing away. “I’ve got enough problems of my own.”

“Oh, come on, I’ll even help you for free!” Jay said, the hint of a plea spilling into his voice. For evil’s sake, why did he have to sound so goddamn desperate.

Suspicion flooded the boy’s eyes. “Okay, Jay, what do you really want from me?”

Jay might have slinked away then, but he knew his father’s routine better than anyone. Any minute now, his father would send out his lackeys to hunt Jay down, and then it would be game over.

It was all too easy then to blurt out, “I need a place to stay.”

*

“Carlos, what the hell?” Mal said to him as soon as he walked into her hideout with Jay, son of Jafar, in tow. “You know we don’t need any more riffraff in here!”

Jay, for what it was worth, didn’t seem to hear as he looked around the room at all the murals Mal had painted across the walls. Carlos took Mal by the shoulder and whispered, “I know, I know. But he kinda needs some help right about now.”

Mal’s eyes flashed. “Which one of us _doesn’t_ , Carlos?” She shook her head. “We don’t run a charity around here. And how do you know he’s not here to spy?”

 _Because you didn’t see the way he looked when he practically begged for help._ But Carlos wouldn’t say that. Even among villains — and the children of them — there was a code about what you should and shouldn’t share. Whatever would happen, Jay had shared a piece of himself with Carlos, and villain kids didn’t do that so easily. There were too many ways trust could be betrayed.

“He’s just staying the night,” Carlos said, “and I’ll have him out by morning. By evil I swear, Mal.” He held up his hand for good measure to show his oath.

Mal just studied him for a long moment before she sighed. “He’s your responsibility then. Just make sure he doesn’t pocket anything. I don’t want to see any of my stuff at the pawn shop.”

Carlos paled. “Wait, aren’t you staying tonight?” He watched as she picked up her leather jacket that she had actually bought with money she had earned from a part-time gig at Ursula’s Fish and Chips. (It hadn’t lasted since Uma had thrown a fit that the customers had liked Mal better than her.)

“Sorry, Carlos, my mother dearest has me over for dinner once a month,” she said. She rolled her eyes. “You know how it is. She acts all motherly when it suits her.”

Carlos opened his mouth to protest, but Mal just waggled her fingers at him in farewell. “Have fun with the new toy. And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

 _Good old Mal,_ Carlos thought, shaking his head as she flounced out the door. Jay hadn’t even noticed, he was still so immersed in studying the art on the walls. His fingertips even traced the shadows of a dragon shrouded in green fire.

“Uh, getting used to the place?” Carlos asked, making his movements open and slow just so he didn’t incite another knife-wielding moment like earlier.

Jay actually grinned at him, and Carlos felt...taken aback. Jafar’s son looked much younger when he was actually smiling. “Yeah, it’s so rad. Who did all of this art?”

“That would be Mal,” Carlos said, feeling a prickle of envy that he had no artistic talent to boast to earn some respect in the thief’s eyes. “She’s always been a great artist. She does a lot of graffiti around the Isle too, so you’ve probably seen some of her work.”

“Nah, I would remember this,” Jay said. “Makes me wonder if she can immortalize me this way.”

Carlos laughed before he could stop himself. “Ego much there? You looking to outmatch Gaston in that department?”

Jay’s smile slipped a little. “Oh, well, not really. I just thought it would be cool if she could paint me. Kinda like those photo things they have in Auradon, you know?”

 _Oh, crap. Nice one, Carlos._ Carlos could have hit himself then. Could he have been more of a judgmental creep? No wonder Jay had treated him like a pariah whenever they crossed paths.

“I’m sorry,” Carlos found himself saying before he could stop himself. “I don’t really know how to...do this. Mal’s one of the only friends I’ve got, and she does most of the talking.”

To Carlos’s surprise, Jay laughed. “I think that’s the first time I’ve heard a villain kid apologize,” he said. “Not that you _have to_ apologize. I mean, you’re the one helping me out, not the other way around.”

Carlos felt a surge of relief. “I would have wanted someone to help me,” he admitted, “so that’s why I helped you. It wasn’t anything special.”

“I don’t know,” Jay said, looking back at the mural in front of him. “I think it’s pretty special.”

Carlos felt his heart thump in his chest as a blush fanned across his cheeks. _Oh no._

One more stolen look at Jay, who looked so young and at peace, and Carlos knew right then.

He was in for more trouble than he had ever bargained for.


	2. All the Wrong Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jay and Carlos are close, but what does that mean among villain kids?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t own any Disney properties. In this installment — we have the Disney-fied version of what it means to have consent! Yay! And that’s all for this little “chapter,” folks. Enjoy!

Jay had never been the type to hold common ground with anyone — unless that ground were covered in misplaced loot — but it was easy enough to fall into step with Carlos De Vil. The kid wasn’t the fastest or even the sharpest when it came to finding easy marks around the Isle, but he was good for quick distractions when push came to shove. And he wasn’t a bad wrestler either.

Except he had one easy weakness: any tickling was anathema to him.

“Okay, uncle, uncle!” Carlos yipped as Jay held him pinned to the ground, one knee on the back and both hands poised dangerously close to exploiting Carlos’s weak point below his ribs.

But Jay couldn’t help himself. Carlos was like a tiny brat you couldn’t help tormenting a _little_ bit. Besides, Jay could just blame all of this on the fact that he knew for a fact that Carlos had stolen the last chocolate bar from the secret candy stash below his bunk.

What could he say? He was a villain’s kid, after all.

“Jay, don’t—!”

It was too late: Jay used all his might (well, as much as one could with a tickling siege) to wage war against Carlos’s bare skin underneath his shirt. And the pay-off was immediate: Carlos erupted into a fit of giggles that would have made any other villain kid turn their head away in mortification and embarrassment if they heard.

Or maybe they would have cheered Jay on. Villain kids were hard to judge.

”Stop—“ Another fitful of laughter escaped Carlos’s mouth. “Come on—!”

But Jay laughed triumphantly himself, continuing to use his hands to make the younger boy yelp and squirm.

However, Jay had underestimated the kid. Carlos wasn’t going down without a fight. While Jay had been focused entirely on revenge (petty and childish as it was), his pin on Carlos had grown unstable. And the kid fought back like a barking puppy backed against a corner with no way out.

“I — TOLD — YOU — TO — STOP!”

And in one great upheaval Carlos jerked upward and rolled out from underneath Jay’s knee, causing the larger boy to tumble head over feet, ricocheting into the nearby beat-up couch Mal had had them salvage from a dump a few weeks back.

“Ow, man, what the hell—“ Jay started, rubbing a sore spot on his cheek, but the next moment he was tackled by the weight of one angry puppy boy. He was knocked back into the couch — again — as Carlos stared at him with murder in his eyes.

Murder with tears. And a reddened face. Not exactly the most intimidating picture ever, but hey. Shock was enough in this instant.

“Do you like torture? Is that your new MO? Huh, Jay?”

“What?” The word _torture_ struck Jay like a blow. Since when was a tickle attack some kind of weapon? “No! I don’t torture people—“

“Could have fooled me!” Carlos yelled in his face. “Since when are you like your dad, huh?”

“My dad?” Jay’s brow furrowed, and he was feeling a bit...testy. Why the hell was Carlos making such a big thing out of nothing? Couldn’t the kid take a joke? “What does my dad have to do with anything?”

“ _He_ liked torturing people, didn’t he? Is that where you get it from?”

 _Now_ Jay was getting pissed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Aren’t you overreacting a little here?”

“I’ve told you I don’t like when anyone tickles me! You know that! Yet you did it anyway! And you _enjoyed_ it!”

This time Jay couldn’t help it: he actually shoved Carlos away until the smaller boy had loosened his grip. “What the hell is your problem? Can’t I have fun? Sorry you’re being such a whiner, like I strangled you or something.”

“There are spells!” The words ripped out of Carlos’s throat. “There are spells where people can be bewitched to die of laughter! To keep laughing and laughing until they can’t catch their breath anymore!” Jay’s mouth dropped open as he saw the fresh shimmer of new tears in Carlos’s eyes — eyes that, for once, looked a tiny bit hateful. “I know you think it’s all fun and games, but that’s what I think when someone’s tickling me. If I can’t stop them, then will I just keep laughing until I die?”

Before Jay could say a word — one measly little word to defend himself, to cut the tension, to do anything to see the hurt gone from his best friend’s eyes — Carlos picked himself up off the floor and dashed from the warehouse. And all Jay could do was listen as Carlos’s hurried bootfalls stomped at double speed down the stairs, gone away like someone escaping a tried and true villain.

*

The sound of wet sneakers met Carlos’s ears first.

When Jay finally found Carlos — and Carlos had known the older boy would find him eventually, the Isle was small enough for that — the tears had finally dried on his cheeks. Even so, Carlos swiped at his face with his sleeves, having regained enough composure where he didn’t want Jay to see the remnants of such weakness.

“Hey,” Jay said, standing feet away, hands in his pockets, as Carlos stood on the edge of the pier that looked out onto the sea and, farther off, the kingdom of Auradon. The glow of the barrier was just visible at a certain slant of light, but the overcast sky — well, it was always overcast on the Isle — made it even harder to catch a glimpse of the barrier’s magic from this angle. If not for the barrier, Carlos could have just dived into the sea and swam away from Jay.

In truth, Carlos felt mortified at his outburst, and a simple apology from either side wouldn’t fix whatever had been broken.

But Carlos could do one thing: acknowledge his friend and fellow crew member. “Hey.”

What could he say? They were boys, and they weren’t the best at expressing themselves, especially at times like these.

There was a long pause, too long for comfort, and Carlos sucked in a breath of salty air.

“Mal’s back,” Jay said at last. “She brought home some dinner. Cheese, I think, and bread. You’ll probably have to cut off the mold, though.”

Carlos wondered if he should ask if the cheese, bread, or both had the mold — but he didn’t have to because Jay rushed on, “Look, man, I’m sorry. I — I didn’t realize you felt that way about the, uh, tickling.”

Carlos leveled a look at his friend. “As long as you promise never to say anything to _anyone_ , we can pretend it never happened.”

He thought that would be the end of matters, until Jay smirked at him, “Do you _really_ think you can trust me with any promises? I mean, really?”

Carlos had to roll his eyes at that. “Okay, you can tell Mal, if that’ll make you happy.”

There was a brief moment, and then: “Sorry, C, I kinda already told her.”

Carlos might have slugged the thief right then and there if his grin hadn’t widened to an absurdly adorable degree.

 _Watch it,_ he told himself, but he knew it was too late.

Jay, son of Jafar, was dearer to Carlos than either of them had probably ever anticipated.

And that would prove to be a terrible thing for them both.


End file.
